The Clock

A ragged headstone

leans towards the West,

and on the grave

a dandelion grows.

 

Cursed as a weed,

this friendless flower

came as an airborne seed

to pledge a token of respect.

 

And so its golden florets bloom

in tribute to a nameless soul,

forgotten since the time

rushlights pierced the gloom.

John Walter Taylor

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10 February 2025